


And the bread shall rise against you

by DarkShadeless



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Video Games)
Genre: (it was close tho), Crack, Gen, I couldn't resist, XD, no toasters were hurt in the making of this fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 16:01:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20781260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShadeless/pseuds/DarkShadeless
Summary: Prepare to be roasted, meatbag.





	And the bread shall rise against you

**Author's Note:**

> The headcanon this is based on is over here https://darkshadeless.tumblr.com/post/187959407163/oh-hk-47-imagine-your-toaster-loving-you-so-much  
  
XD  
Basically: WHAT IF HK-47 did not start his life as the assassin we all know and love? (On the outside at least.)

„This is **_IT_**!”

Revan is dashing down the hallway before they make the conscious decision to do so. It never means anything good when Malak can be heard cursing throughout the whole ship at kriff-me in the morning. They have all but developed a separate Force-sense just to deal with his nonsense on a regular basis.

Their instincts prove right. The scene they slide into the kitchen area to witness is somewhere between the last stages of a war of attrition and the first of a massacre.

Their apprentice, crumbs all over his pyjama-clad front, is holding his victim aloft by the heating unit and is in the process of pulling his lightsaber on it. Oh, this isn’t going to fly.

“Malak! What are you doing! Put it down this instant!”

The combatants twitch and glance at their commander. Or, _Malak_ does, the poor toaster oven in his grip doesn’t have optical units to glance at anyone. It still feels as if it is turning imploring eyes on Revan’s person and looking at them soulfully. Its bread holders make a series of accusing clicking noises.

“Master! I-”

The throbbing headache Revan can never seem to get rid of for any length of time makes itself known. “Apprentice. Put it _down_.” With every indication of unwilling compliance Malak obeys. He drops the poor little droid none too gently. “Oh for-“

Revan elbows him out of the way and fusses over the single most important item in their kitchen. They don’t have _time_ to cook, they are at war with the Republic here! If their main re-heater for processed food dies, they’ll be living off _cold_ MREs. That’s not happening. “Are you okay, little buddy? Was Malak mean to you again? I’m so sorry.”

The toaster’s time piece beeps a few probably highly uncomplimentary things. (Revan has become regrettably fluent in ‘toaster’. It’s all in the tone.) They ignore that with the wilful determination of cat owners everywhere and treat their apprentice to a glower.

“… it spat the toast at me, master.”

“Seriously?”

“It attacked me!”

“For the last time, Malak, the toaster isn’t out to get you. Leave it alone! It’s just a defenceless kitchen appliance for Force’s sake!”

Really. He’s acting as if it’s planning to murder him in his sleep. What is an HK-47 toaster oven going to do to a Sith?

**Author's Note:**

> HK: <3
> 
> Just you wait, Malak. Just you wait...


End file.
